


Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Comfort, Crying, Gen, Guilt, Impact Play, Multi, Non-Sexual Kink, Platonic Cuddling, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: From the promt: "'Poe Dameron needs to be punished,' i.e., Poe feels guilty for the events of TLJ (despite everyone telling him it's not his fault) and wants to be hurt and dommed, and maybe there's some cathartic crying. The next day, he feels 100% better (or at least 73% better) and puts his big boy panties on over his bruised ass to help the Resistance."





	Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maeglin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeglin/gifts).



> Prompt by Maeglin, beta-read by Nytemere (many thanks!), and title from Anberlin's "Alexithymia". 
> 
> CW: mention of past sex work and clients acting entitled to sex

Poe closed the door behind him, alone in the night-black storage closet. He leaned against a tall cabinet, breathing heavily, and slid to the floor.

He had thought that once he got alone he'd be able to cry, but now that he was here, the tears wouldn't come. He was certainly alone enough. It was just him, some miscellaneous junk the Pathfinders had left behind in this hideout, and the crushing weight of his guilt.

A tiny, logical part of his mind knew he didn't need to feel guilty. Leia had apologized for slapping and stunning him, apologized for not calling off the bombers herself. Connix had told him he was right about the dreadnaught and that he was the reason any of them were still alive. Finn had reassured him that mindlessly following orders was what the First Order demanded, not the Resistance, and if authority was always right, what was the point of having a Resistance at all? And even BB-8 had tried to make him feel better: didn't he complete the mission to find the map? And didn't he fire the decisive shots on Starkiller?

It didn't matter. The guilt went deep; it was settled in his bones. Against all logic, he felt that everything that had gone wrong was his fault.

He sat with his head on his knees and his arms hugging his legs to his chest for some time. Maybe the Resistance was better off without him. They needed someone who wasn't a fuckup, or at least someone who could lead without hiding in a closet feeling miserable.

Voices laughed outside, in the hallway, and Poe waited for them to pass by. So when the door opened, it startled him, and suddenly he was looking up at a very surprised Finn and Rey.

Oh dear. He could think of a good reason why two people who looked at each other the way Finn and Rey did would want an out-of-the way storage closet-- in the hour when dinner wasn't technically over yet and folks took unofficial free time across the base, no less-- and it didn't include him.

“Sorry, I'll be going, lemme just get outta the way,” he said, embarrassed, scrambling to his feet.

“Poe, are you okay?” Finn stopped him in the doorway, placing a hand on him.

“Uh, me? I'll be fine, don't let me keep you from-- uh, from whatever you were doing.”

“You look awful,” Rey said bluntly. “Do you need a doctor?”

“No, no--"

“Poe.” Finn looked serious and concerned. “You can be honest with us.”

Poe rubbed his hand over his face. “You sure? You got a second?”

So they all sat on the floor of the storage closet, with Finn's arm around Poe and Rey leaning on Finn. As Poe told them about the guilt, they listened and agreed it didn't make sense.

“So what do you normally do when you feel this way?” asked Rey.

“I've never had it this bad,” Poe admitted, “but I like to take baths, or bake koyo pastries. Sometimes talking to my dad helps. None of which I can do here, of course.”

“Those are good things,” she said. “I've got to try bathing with water in a tub at some point.”

“What about working out? Or listening to music?” Finn suggested. “That usually helps me.”

Rey tilted her head. “They let you listen to music?”

“Oh yeah. Some of it was propaganda, but plenty of it was more mainstream stuff. What else has helped you before, Poe?”

“Flying used to, but I don't think it would help today. And sometimes I see a professional dominant.” His ears and cheeks flushed as he realized what he'd just said. “Wait, sorry, that was probably TMI. I mean, it's not a sexual thing. Well, it can be, but uh, not when-- y'know, I'm just going to shut up now.”

He covered his mouth and put his head down. Force help him, he'd made two new friends, and now who knew _what_ they were thinking of him.

“That's nothing to be embarrassed about, Poe,” Rey said, emphatic. “I worked as a Domme for a few months on Jakku, and I wish folks felt more comfortable talking about it.”

“Oh.” Poe said, taken aback but relieved. “That's cool.”

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun. But I got tired of pushy clients feeling entitled to sex, so I went back to scavenging.” She laughed. “I'd beat them once for pay, and then beat them again to make them leave. Hard to make a living working twice as long for every job you take.”

“That sucks. Some men are the worst.” Finn frowned.

“Yeah. But I'm glad, in hindsight, because if it wasn't for scavenging, I wouldn't have met you, and discovered the Force. So it all worked out.”

Poe wasn't sure it had. They would probably die here, and it would probably be his fault.

“Anyway,” Rey continued, “if it would help you get back to feeling yourself, I'd be up for doing a scene with you.”

“Stars, Rey, that's great of you to offer, but my credits card was in one of the transports we lost, and--"

She waved her hand, dismissing his objection. “Not for pay. As a favor for a friend. If it becomes a regular thing, then we can work something out.”

Poe hesitated, torn between how much he wanted it and how much he felt like he didn't deserve any favors from someone he'd only met last week.

“That's really generous, thank you. I would love to.”

Rey's eyes lit up, and he could practically see the wheels turning as she thought and planned. They spent a few minutes talking through what Poe wanted for the scene and for aftercare. Blood was a soft limit for both of them. He didn't want to be restrained, not so soon after being captured. They didn't want any roleplay, so there was no need for a safeword beyond straightforward language and the stoplight system. Finn didn't want to see Poe in pain after freeing him from real torture, but he did want to be there for aftercare.

“I think that's everything,” Rey said when they'd gotten it all planned. “Meet me back here in 10 minutes, and I'll see what toys I can find.”

Poe went to make sure BB-8 knew not to come looking for him, since he didn't want to traumatize his droid, and went to use the fresher and refill his canteen before going back to the closet.

Rey had the light on when he went back in, and she showed him an impressive array of pervertables on a shelf. No wonder, she'd made her living finding usable things, but still, Poe respected her ingenuity. She had a wooden spoon, probably swiped from the kitchen; a clean, new mop head unscrewed from its handle; a white, heavy-looking plastisteel pipe; and a thin, black piece of flexiplast tubing about half a meter in length.

“See anything you like?”

“Uh, wow. All of it?”

Rey chuckled. “So there's nothing here that you don't want me to use?”

“Well, the tubing looks pretty nasty. Maybe hold off on it, at least at first, and see if the other stuff does the trick?”

“Sounds great.” Rey gave him a confident smile. “Are you ready?”

Poe took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip. “I'm _so_ ready.”

“Let's do this. And remember, you can stop at any time.”

“Right.” He nodded.

“Take off your clothes.” Her voice was firm and commanding.

He tugged his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his fly, feeling small and vulnerable before her. After kicking off his boots and sliding his socks off, he stepped out of his trousers and set them aside. He was naked except for a jockstrap that covered his junk but not his ass. Normally he didn't have much shame about his body, but his sense of guilt made him feel humiliated, like he needed to cover up.

“Turn around with your back to me, and touch the top corners of that cabinet.” Rey gestured to a storage cabinet that was taller than Poe and locked shut. Stars, she was good. With that voice, he felt almost compelled to obey.

Poe placed his hands on the corners of the cabinet and stood with his feet wide and his back and ass exposed. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. The guilt and pain came flooding over him in the silence, and he tried to stand up under it, tried to look it in the eye instead of crumpling under it or pushing it away.

Rey's first touch was gentle. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back to behind his knees. The touch was kind, almost uncomfortably so. But she repeated the motion, with a little more pressure each time, and soon her strong and calloused hands were pressing into the tension of his shoulders, finding knots and pressure points he didn't even know were there. He moaned as the massage brought its first real pain, deep and soothing. Rey pressed the heels of her hands down his back on either side of his spine before kneading into his ass, and fuck, he was tight there, too.

She swatted his ass, barely brushing it. He wondered if she was toying with him, going this slowly. She had no idea how much he wanted it, how wholly he craved pain and punishment.

 _“Please,”_ he begged, and it surprised him how desperate he sounded. “Please hurt me. I-- I need it.”

“I hear you,” Rey said sympathetically. “You're going to get what you need. Trust me.”

She started a steady rhythm on his ass, and she gradually went from easy taps to slaps with some sting to them. He was starting to hurt, and it felt so good, even if it wasn't nearly enough. His skin warmed and stung, and he knew it must be turning pink by now.

Rey rubbed her hand over his sensitive skin, and it was both calming and painful. He heard her pick something up, and the next moment there was a loud _thwack_ and a sharp pain on his ass that made him wince. _Better._ Rey landed another solid blow on both cheeks with the wooden spoon. Her strikes lost all rhythm or pattern to when or where they landed, and it kept him off balance, always waiting. He couldn't lose himself, couldn't settle into his own head and the sinkhole of distressing emotion. A strike hit the center of his ass, where she'd already hit him enough for the skin to be constantly stinging, and he gasped at the pain. He was definitely feeling it now. No doubt about that. He hung his head and put all his focus into waiting for the next blow to land, for the sharp pain and the sound, and into enduring it. And then for the next one. Over and over, until he couldn't have kept count even if he'd tried.

Rey set down the spoon and stood beside him so they could see each other's faces. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she gently stroked Poe's ass.

“Good.” He nodded. “This is what I needed. It's not enough yet, but it's perfect so far.”

“So you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” he begged. “And thank you, Rey.”

“You're welcome.” She smiled, still kind in a way he couldn't feel like he deserved. “You'll tell me if you want to stop or change something, right?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.”

She picked up the mop-turned-flogger and took a step behind him.

The first blow was softer than Poe expected, brushing his shoulder blades with no real force behind it. The second had a bit of sting as the falls struck across his back, and the third made a satisfying slapping noise. She picked up steam and speed, covering his whole back, ass, and thighs. His ass was already sensitive, but his thighs were less warmed up.

The flogger wasn't so bad at first, but Rey was patient and skilled. The blows compounded, and she was merciless to his upper back. The falls that had felt so soft at first now seemed coarse, as though they might wear right through to his shoulder blades. They just kept coming, even as all the back of his body burned. Poe realized he was gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. This was about the upper limit of what would be a fun pain, if this were a casual hookup. It was intense enough that he considered calling yellow.

No. This is what he wanted, what he needed. What he felt like he deserved, despite all evidence to the contrary. He could take a little more. He bit his lip and tried to just breathe. Another strike hit his back, and he barely held back a moan. A moment later, he couldn't hold it back at all. He threw his head back and made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a sob.

Rey kept going. He wasn't ready for her to stop. More blows, and his breath wavered.

“Maybe,” he managed to say, “maybe another kind of pain? Don't stop, please don't, but something different. Just give me a second.”

“Absolutely,” Rey answered.

She offered Poe his canteen and drank out of hers. He took a sip, and the cold water was refreshing. His breath was coming back to him.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, concerned.

“It's intense, but I want more. Wanna keep going. I can take more.”

“All right. Let's do this.”

She took his canteen, and he placed his hands back on the cabinet. She picked up the rigid pipe and rolled it along the fleshy top of his shoulders as though she were rolling dough. Short, quick strokes crushed the knots in his muscles, and he hissed through gritted teeth.

She hit a soft part of his ass with a force that almost slammed him into the cabinet. The heavy pipe would almost certainly leave bruises. With silent thuds, it created a deep, dull pain that made him groan and made his legs weak.

Each blow felt like the most he could take, until the next one struck and he found he could take that, too. Somehow he managed to return himself to upright each time, though his sense of balance was slipping.

“Are you ready for the last tool?” Rey asked him.

Fuck, he'd forgotten about that. For a moment he was aware of both intensely wanting it and intensely dreading it. He wasn't sure he could handle it, but then he wouldn't know unless he tried. And he trusted that Rey would stop the moment he asked her to.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Please.”

Like she'd done with the others, she started off gently. But gently with the piece of tubing was still vicious, and the stripe of agony across his thighs made him moan and squeeze his eyes shut.

Fuck, if this was just the warm up, how could he possibly stand a full flogging with it? He knew he didn't have to, that he had the power to make it stop. But he needed it to hurt. He needed the punishment. He _could_ , and he _would_ , and he _deserved it,_ dammit.

A harder blow lit up a line across his shoulder blades, forcing a wordless yell out of him. Rey whipped his legs, and he could only gasp before crying out. With another scalding strike, hot tears escaped his squeezed-shut eyes.

He let himself sob-- he was sure he couldn't stop himself anyway-- and tears flooded onto his bowed face, dripping from his nose and chin onto the floor. He howled and screamed, even though his throat was tight with crying, and the pain was so much greater than what he thought he could take. But he had to. Had to make up for getting caught on Jakku, for crashing the TIE. For losing so many pilots on Starkiller. For the bombers and the dreadnaught and every person on every transport lost to the cold vacuum of space. For the entire kriffing Force-damned mutiny.

For the fear, deep but but insistent, that he had let the entire galaxy down.

“I'm sorry!” he shouted, to no one-- to everyone. “I'm so sorry.”

The galaxy didn't answer, only the loud slap on his skin and the agony in his body. He sobbed, barely standing up under the pain and the guilt.

“Color, Poe?”

“Green, yes, _more,”_ he begged, and was rewarded with another stripe of pain.

 _“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,”_ he repeated, shaking, between sobs.

And gradually, with the repeated blows, his guilt was just as heavy, but he no longer felt it as guilt, but as grief. He'd lost so much. They all had. So much was taken from him in this war. He was overwhelmed by pain, not the pain in his body, but the pain of having had his mind invaded, of losing people he cared about to senseless violence, of being dismissed and distrusted after giving so much and proving himself over and over.

He hurt and screamed, but he could take it. The grief was strong, but he could stand up under it.

He sobbed until his throat was raw and he had no more tears to cry. He sniffled and blinked open his eyes. Rey had been winding it down and had gone back to using her hand, and he hadn't noticed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Good… that was good,” he said shakily. “I needed that.”

He took his hands off the cabinet and nearly collapsed onto her. She steadied him, helped him back into his clothes, and guided him outside to the Millennium Falcon. He staggered up the ramp in a floaty haze, and Rey made sure he made it to a bed before he fell over. She sat down and cuddled up next to him, her skin warm and reassuring.

Finn came out of the ship’s tiny kitchen, smiling and carrying a tray of steaming mugs.

“I found some hot cocoa mix stashed in one of the cabinets,” Finn said.

“Oh, you're an angel. Bless you,” Rey said as she accepted two of the mugs he offered. She held one steady for Poe, and he took a sip, cautious not to spill it on the bed. It was sweet and warmed him from the inside.

“Is he, uh. Is he okay?” Finn asked Rey.

Finn was so good. Poe nodded and smiled up at him.

“Poe did great.” Rey ran her fingers through his hair, and _oh_ that felt amazing. “He’s coming down from the intensity of it all now; just give him some time.”

“Should I give you some space, or would hugs help?”

“Aww, come here, buddy.” Poe held his arm out to Finn as an invitation. Finn grinned like radiant sunshine, set the tray down, and took the last mug of cocoa before snuggling next to Poe on the bed. He was warm and strong, and Poe found that being nestled between the two of them was grounding. The tension that had been coiled tight in his body for who knew how long was gone, and his muscles were relaxed and heavy. He could lie there for hours, years, maybe, just drinking cocoa, feeling them breathe slowly and deeply, and feeling cared for and alive. They were so good to him, better than he deserved, and that made him grateful instead of ashamed.

They lay there for some time, quiet. The pain was fading. Rey stroked Poe's hair or rubbed his shoulders every so often, while Finn held him solidly and protectively. They drank their cocoa down to the last little bit of chocolate in the mugs.

After a while, Rey asked, “How are you feeling now?”

Poe had to reflect for a moment before he could answer. “I feel… safe. Connected. Really, really thankful. And calmer than I've felt in a long time.”

“Good.” She hugged him. “Do you feel like you've landed, or are you still up in space?”

He chuckled. “Getting there. Sub-atmo, at least. You guys are the best, thank you so much for this.”

“You're welcome,” said Finn, hugging him.

“Yeah, you're welcome.” Rey said.

Poe sighed with contentment, and he closed his drowsy eyes.

 ----------

Poe was waking up slowly, feeling warm and better rested than he'd felt in ages. He was still in his clothes from last night, and he had some ridiculous bedhead and morning breath, but finding himself between Finn and Rey was worth it. Rey was curled on her side facing him, making the tiniest, most adorable snoring noise, and Finn was passed out on his back like a rock, with his arm crossing down over Poe's chest and his hand on Poe's waist.

Stars, they were so good. He and Rey had been clear that the scene last night hadn't been sexual. But he definitely had romantic feelings for both her and Finn, and heck, he wouldn't mind doing one that was, in the future. That was a conversation for later.

Finn was next to wake up, stretching and rubbing his broad shoulders.

“G’morning,” Poe said sleepily.

Finn yawned. “Same to you. How'd you sleep?”

“Amazing. Haven't slept so well in years. Must’ve been the cocoa.”

Finn laughed and sat up. “Same here. D’you know if we're supposed to get any more food shipments today?”

“Let's hope so. Yesterday's lunch was a disaster.”

Rey snored more loudly and kicked the blankets off as she woke, sitting straight up. Her ponytail was lopsided, and wisps of hair stuck out all around her face.

“Hey,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Did we miss breakfast?”

Finn checked his chrono. “Nah, we've still got an hour. We went to sleep pretty early last night.”

They took turns cleaning off in the sonic shower, spraying deodorizer over their clothes, and brushing their teeth. Poe made the bed and scrubbed the cocoa mugs clean in the ship's tiny kitchen-- it was the least he could do, after all. And Rey checked him again for injuries, just in case she'd missed something while he was floaty yesterday.

They held hands on the way to the makeshift mess hall, this time with Finn in the middle. The planet seemed brighter and cleaner to Poe than it had yesterday. It was some combination of the cathartic scene, the refreshing sleep, and Finn's warm hand in his, probably. They talked and laughed over the weird mishmash of disparate breakfast items, and stars, it was good to feel connected again.

When Poe walked into the room they were starting to convert to a command center, with Karé, Jess, and Snap right behind him, he walked with confidence.

He stood and spoke, leading the brave band of survivors with hope and courage. No one needed to know that he'd rather stand than sit because his ass was bruised. What mattered was that he was standing.


End file.
